One can only hope Tom Hardy gets a proper chat with his agent after this. Havoc at Netflix is one long, blood-spattered slump in which even the best actors have to wade through a script so thin it makes you want to call for an adult.
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
It starts as it always starts: rain, dark streets, a cranky Hardy already looking tired before anything has even gone wrong. And then it explodes into one long cavalcade of fights, with blood spurting as if people lose two pints if you step on their toes.
Gareth Evans (The Raid) is obviously trying to recreate the magic of his previous films, but instead ends up with something reminiscent of Die Hard on a really bad day. The camera shakes, bones crack, and Hardy fights valiantly -- but it all feels sober-to-bolter, like an action movie made because of a canceled vacation and a cheap tax-free bar.
The problem isn't just that the movie is overdone. It's that it will never be awesome.
It feels like a mechanical bloodbath with no soul, where every single scene is a little too much and a little too indifferent. Tom Hardy does what he can, and he's actually backed by a fine cast, but when the lines sound like they've been hoisted out of a generator on YouTube, it helps just a little.
And then comes the thought insidiously: Are we about to see Tom Hardy morph into some sort of Bruce Willis from Temu? A shadow of himself who will accept anything as long as there's food on the table and a trailer truck on set? It makes you want to shout: Stop, Tom! You're better than this!
Let's just put it like this:
Havoc is one big piece of shit. Hideous, yes. Bloody, yes. Entertaining? Only if you love the idea of watching talented people wade around in crappy material.
